


What it takes to be a Liar.

by Stay_safe_eat_cake



Category: Dream Team - Fandom, Minecraft (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Big angst, Big surprise, Dream gets big sad, Hey! Guess what!? This ones projection too!, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, Mental Breakdown, Panic Attacks, Past Child Abuse, Referenced Past Selfharm, Suicidal Thoughts, liars, lying, pathological liar
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-05
Updated: 2020-10-05
Packaged: 2021-03-08 01:55:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,637
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26827702
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Stay_safe_eat_cake/pseuds/Stay_safe_eat_cake
Summary: Dream was spiraling.Again.He didn’t want to do this anymore.He was so sick of this cycle.He didn’t want to hurt people anymore.
Relationships: (not the main focus), Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF)
Comments: 8
Kudos: 379





	What it takes to be a Liar.

**Author's Note:**

> I have one brain cell and it's projection based angst :D  
> Don't forget to mind the tags for any possible triggers!!!

**_What it takes to be a liar._ **

  
  


Dream was spiralling—again.

This happened once every few weeks honestly. 

He would do something without thinking. 

He would say something without caring.

Then he would end up on his cold bathroom tile at the brink of tears.

At war with the two sides of himself that were each trying to control his life. 

What could he do at this point except let them rip him apart until he was nothing but a shell of his former self? 

But wasn't he already at that point? His past self was so far behind. He was barely the same. Everything he said and did was all an act, both to himself, the audience and his friends.

It had been years since he had been genuine for more than a week. 

Year's since he could look at himself in the mirror and say that he saw himself. 

At this point, it was just the two voices battling each other nonstop. 

One advocating for his broken morals and the trust of his friends. 

The other just trying to keep Dream safe in the most twisted way. Trying to keep him entertained. 

It started off as a coping mechanism. 

Something to defend himself when nobody would listen to the truth. 

He could remember the exact moment it all started. 

She wouldn't believe that it wasn't him, even though it *wasn’t* him. She was so loud and it was so late. He just wanted to sleep. He just wanted it to be over.

“WELL, WHAT DO YOU HAVE TO SAY FOR YOURSELF!? HUH!? WAS IT YOU!?”

Was it him? No. He didn’t do it. But he’s so tired. He just wants her to go away. He knew that she wouldn't stop until she got what she wanted.  
Or until things got worse.  
”WORDS YOU ASSHOLE- YOU CAN SPEAK CANT YOU?!”  


“yes” He mumbled out weakly not looking her in the eyes

”SO WAS IT YOU BITCH!!?”

” _yes_ ”

“OH LOOK YOU FINALLY FUCKING ADMIT IT!! WHY WAS THAT SO HARD YOU USELESS SHIT!!?”

“ _I’m sorry_ ”

It hurt remembering that night.  
It hurt remembering that it didn't end there.

It only got worse. 

He learned that night that lying could protect him.

It could get him what he wanted. 

So the little coping mechanism escalated.

Dream had always been an overachiever and a fast learner.

He got good at lying fast.

But he wasn’t the best.

So he practiced with his friends. 

He hated it.  
God was he awful. 

They were so young and easily influenced of course they would believe you, all it did was boost your fucking ego.  
You scum.

He could have stopped then.

He needed to keep lying though.

The holes he kept digging himself into were only getting deeper.

Lying was fun.

The stories he carefully crafted to keep himself safe were just as fun as the spur of the moment tales he said to make himself look more interesting.

Cold sweat ran down his back as he kept spiralling, fingernails digging into his skin.

God he fucking hated himself.

GOD HE FUCKING HATED HIMSELF

He only got worse.

He only got better at lying.

Why couldn't he stop?

Normal people didn't do this.

Normal people could control themselves.

Normal people didn't lie 74 plus times A DAY.

Yeah, he fucking counted.

Back in high school, he played a game where every time he lied in a day he put a line on his finger in red pen.

Five lines meant a ‘punishment’ when he got home. 

He only lasted a week before he had to stop.

His arms would never be the same though.  
The scars tingled as if they were still fresh.

  
It was a cruel reminder.  
  


The fingernails digging into his legs were starting to break the skin. 

His head was spinning.

The painful screams of his mother and himself dancing around his mind.

He couldn't blame anyone but himself.

It was all his fault.

He could have stopped.

It should have never gotten this bad.

He doesn't need to lie to them.

They love him.

Do they?

Or do they just love the picture you’ve painted of yourself?

What are you going to do when they find out about everything?

I could tell them.

They wouldn’t trust you anymore.

They would both leave you.

_He_ would leave you.

Just like everybody else did.

Nobody likes the real you.

Nobody wants the real you.

_He_ doesn’t love you.

Who would want to be friends with a pathological liar?

NOBODY WOULD UNDERSTAND.

It's not as simple as it seems.

It's not just about lying for fun, and getting what you want.

You lie to yourself too.

And god does it hurt when the truth hits you.

“I HATE MYSELF MORE THEN ANYONE ELSE” 

His deep voice echoed in the dark room.  


He fell forwards onto the floor pulling his knees up to his chest.

“I REGRET IT every time” 

His voice cracked harshly as his mind spilled all over his bathroom tile along with his tears.

“I don't—I don't want to lie” 

The deafening silence of the small room was driving him insane.  
He was so alone.

“I don't want to lie to them—I just—I just can't stop”

Nobody was here to save him.

“I can't stop I can't stop I can't stop—why can't I stop—why am I so useless and awful” 

Tears were harsh against his eyes and it felt like he was falling from the greatest heights.  
Even though he was just a pathetic mess of a man curled up on his bathroom floor.

“Was I Iying when I said I- when I said I loved him” 

It hurt, it hurt so much.

“Was it just me crafting a storyline- was it me playing with him?”  
  
He loved _him_ so much—more than even he knew, but what he didn’t know if it was all a lie. If it was just him loving the idea of _him_ loving him.  
  
He couldn’t trust himself.

“I’m sorry George—I love you I’m sorry for hurting you-“

It was all so overwhelming every inch of his being was collapsing in on itself. Years of repression gone to wast in a matter of seconds. 

The two sides of his consciousness melding into one massive mess of self-hate.

“I’m sorry I’m so so sorry, I don't want to do this anymore —I have no self-control—I can't get anyone to help me because I would have to tell them and they would leave—I’m sorry” He rambled on and on letting all his truths spill out.  
The only person who could hear them was him.

The only person who was burdened was him.

He was overwhelmed with guilt, drawing up memories he had buried deep down.

Why did he do this to himself?

Why did he let this addiction get this bad?

Why did he keep hurting people?

Hurting himself?

Why couldn't he stop?

What was he supposed to do? 

Everything was going wrong.

Everything hurt.

When did he let the thoughts take over?

Was this just him lying to himself again?

No.

They would be better off not knowing the truth.

They would be better off without him.

_He_ would be better off without him.

He stood up slowly, refusing to look at himself in the mirror.

Struggling to open the bathroom door as his head spun wildly

Why? 

Why did he bother trying?

He knew that at this point—with how deep his grave is—there was only one way to break the sicking cycle that only continued to hurt people.

It was all lies.

He was beyond sorry.

Or was he?

He knew it would hurt people. 

Or would it?

But it was  ~~ easier ~~ better than the truth.

What did he have to lose?

Everything.

Where were his keys?

Was he really going to do this?

Was this all necessary?

Yes.

It was hopeless.

He was hopeless.

He couldn’t keep hurting people.

He couldn’t keep letting it all build up.

He couldn’t keep lying to _him_.

Lying to himself.

Lying to his friends.

It hurt so much.

But what would hurt more in the end?

The pavement or continuing this charade?

His neck snapping or telling them the truth?

What else could he do at this point?

What else was left for him?

They didn't love him.

_He_ didn't love him.

They loved his lies.

He had no other option.

~~ He knew that was a lie. ~~

He had no hope left though.

Leaning his head against his front door he let more tears fall down his stained cheeks. It was all overwhelming. It was all wrong. What was happening?

Why couldn't he stop himself? 

Is this what it takes to be a liar? Years of guilt and regret crashing in all at once. All the lies you tell yourself finally falling apart and you realize you have nothing and no one and you're a hopeless sack of shit. Gut-wrenching pain every time you speak a single word. Never-ending anxiety that someone will find out. It hurt so much. But it was like a drug. You always come back to it no matter how much you try to stop yourself.

Until you stop yourself.

Until you make it stop.

Until you end the cycle.

Until you give up.

Until you realize what it takes to be a liar.

Dream ripped open the front door with his car keys in hand. Knowing what he had to do. The midnight wind hit his cold face. He appreciated the moment well it all lasted, looking up at the almost full moon.

It hurt.

He was sorry.

But what else could he do?

He couldn't keep hurting.

Himself and others.

It needed to end.

He couldn't keep lying. 

He just couldn’t.

**Author's Note:**

> I literally wrote this in my discord servers angst channel (shout out to the Walmart cult ilyall) and it was a lot of fun!!  
> I hope it made you sad :DDD!!


End file.
